Unable
by hewhoistomriddle
Summary: Mainly each other's perspectives on whatever the other did through the years. my lame first attempt at HD. HD slash.


This has been festering on my laptop since the beginning of time (when I first discovered Yaoi). It's awful but what the heck? It's not as if I care. Okay, I do care.**  
**

**Disclaimer: **I do not have the brains to create HP. God, I don't even have brains.  


Untouchable, Unspeakable

There he goes again, surrounded by friends and admirers. He's actually earned that admiration, I have to admit. A lesser man would've crumbled at the things he had to go through.

Father told me about all he'd done, thinking that it might add to my supposed hatred for him. As if.

I never hated him.

Well, there was that first time I thought he was this runty street-rat out to filter my money and I hated him on the spot. But I didn't know it was _him_ then.

All those things about how he stopped the Dark Lord from getting the Sorceror's Stone, how he killed Slytherin's Basilisk and destroyed one Horcrux. We were only kids then. While I was being a spoiled brat, he was already risking his life. He started fighting in the war. It was simply _too early_.

And besides that, those years he'd nearly won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor _twice._ I should know, I was there.

In our third year, rumors spread about how he'd driven away a horde of dementors. I had no reason to doubt it. He saved several lives that year: Peter Pettigrew's (who's never done anything to deserve it), Sirius Black (Who we all thought was a murderous traitor), and Buckbeak. Yes, that would be my fault. His streak is forgiveness is unbelievable. I would've _annihilated _Pettigrew on the spot if _I'd_ known what he'd done.

In our fourth year, I watched as he struggled with the prospect of entering one of the toughest interschool competitions for decades. I've seen him fight those dragons, as shocked as everyone else. I held my breath as we waited for the champions to resurface from the Lake (I would've given _anything _to be Weasley then). I was there too when he asked Cho Chang out, that ungrateful minx. What fool would choose Diggory, that useless pretty-boy, over him?! Well…look who lived longer.

Father had told me how nightmarish the Dark Lord's rebirth was. I quote, "It was seeing the devil himself rising again".

_He_ was there. He _dueled_ the Dark Lord (not to mention my father and the others) and lived. He bloody _lived_.

The next year was perhaps the worst. The Ministry came to Hogwarts and we Slytherins were forced to side with that horrible toad, stuck our heads up her arse and everything. I had to play the enemy (not that I haven't been doing it for the past four years already but that was an all-time low). Did he honestly think I wouldn't see those scars from that twisted woman's detention?

That year, he fought with the Dark Lord yet again, trying to save some prophecy. What an idiot. He was _fifteen,_ for Merlin's sake! I knew too something bad happened there, whatever it was. Waves of anguish practically rolled off him. Everyone noticed it, but we were too embarrassed to say anything. What were you supposed to say to a Golden boy, high atop a pedestal? Especially when you've been ridiculing and whispering behind his back for a whole year.

My, his skinny shoulders were stronger than expected.

But this year, this very moment, he's looking worn. One of the Slytherins tipped me off about him having private lessons with Dumbledore. My stomach clenched painfully, for I knew what I had to do. Kill Dumbledore, join the Dark Lord, no going back.

He'll hate me forever.

While I'll be admiring him from a distance, praying that someday he'd liberate our world from Darkness, including myself.

I know he can do it.

Of course he can, he's Harry Potter, the Golden Boy. Untouched by corruption and pure-hearted all throughout.

Too good for the likes of me though.

* * *

His name was taboo around here, his and Snape's. Especially with the pain of Dumbledore's death still fresh in our hearts.

I should hate him, _must _hate him. Him and all he represents: Darkness, blood purists, muggle-haters.

But I cannot hate him. Extremely pissed and disappointed would be closer to what I'm feeling.

I mean, I was there. I saw him hesitate. I understood what he was going through. I saw him _cry._

It must be awful, Voldemort threatening to kill your entire family if you failed.

He wasn't stupid, I know that, only panicky. He knew he was trapped. Absolutely trapped by his _blood_ (his pride and joy) no less. He was doomed to walk the dark path.

Well, I suppose he could've chosen to die instead. But that's just plain wrong. It's only human to want to live.

I never imagined it to be this way, and so soon. I still can't believe how much the rift between us has evolved. First, it was only between Houses, between Quidditch pitches. Now, we're already at opposite sides of the battlefield.

We have changed so much, and not for the better too.

Mutely, I grasp for the remaining vestiges of memories of that happier time.

Relatively, it was a happier time (compared to the grim mood now). But I have only a few.

Ron was right. We should've taken more time to treasure that time he was turned into a ferret. A cute, furry, white little ferret.

And that time he grabbed my Firebolt just to stop Gryffindor from winning. We won anyway. His 'broken' arm couldn't change anything about that.

That was the same year I snuck into Hogsmeade and had a grand time pretending to be a Shrieking Shack spirit. He runs fast.

And when Ron and I broke into their Commonroom. That was always good for a laugh.

In our first year, we had our first detention together. Awful though it was, I have to admit that him shrieking like a terrified girl while bolting away is one of my best memories of him.

Back then, he was _good_. Yes, good.

Spoiled, rotten and completely infuriating and good.

Lastly, I remember walking into that shop, feeling completely stupid, and talking with a wizard kid for the first time. And, in his case, _last_ time. He gave me a thorough verbal beating, if I remember correctly. I guess I deserved it, putting my person beside that noble aristocratic blond.

I would do it again if given the chance…to talk sincerely to the Slytherin Prince and bane of everyone's existence, Draco Malfoy. There is something beneath that boy, something special the world will never realize.

But he would never talk to me. Never ever.

_Harry's untouchable._

_Draco's unspeakable._

* * *

Too awful?_ Tell me about it. _


End file.
